Wrapped in Your Rhythm
by SuperMegaFoxyAwesomeHot
Summary: Kurt's lonely in New York. Blaine's ingenuitive. Bruce is always around. Fluff!


**I was ideas-ing all over Tumblr with trufflemores and this happened. Bruce the boyfriend pillow needs more love, man.**

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There was no doubt in Kurt's mind that New York was better than Lima. Anywhere where he didn't regularly get the shit kicked out of him for being gay was a good place in his book.

However, New York could get a bit lonely at times, especially when his fiance was hundreds of miles away in Ohio, cramming for his last two finals.

_I swear to God, once Blaine gets here, we're not leaving the loft for a week, _Kurt thought as he climbed the last flight of stairs back up to the apartment. He wrenched the sliding door open to see that it was empty yet again. A note from Rachel on the fridge said that she was at another late night rehearsal for _Funny Girl_, while the conspicuous absence of Santana's massive pile of dental dams proved that she was over at Dani's.

After making a quick dinner, Kurt ambled his way into his section of the loft. He threw his pajamas on and dug out his laptop, opening the file of sheet music he'd been working on for his Madonna cover band - "Into the Groove" was going to sound fantastic in four-part harmony. He soon got tired of working on that arrangement, though, and shut his laptop before putting it on his nightstand, trying to roll around and find the comfiest spot on his bed.

"Ugh, nothing's working," he muttered to himself. "I guess I'll resort to the big guns." He got up and pulled a familiar (though dusty) case out from under his bed. Once he'd brushed off all the dust, he opened it and pulled out an old friend.

"Hey there, Bruce. Mind if I make a booty call?" Kurt asked his pillow jokingly, before smothering himself into its chest. "Oh God, I'm so glad no one was around to hear me say that."

As if on cue, Kurt's phone rang, the screen lit up with a picture of Blaine in his yellow sunglasses. He almost dropped it in his haste to answer the call.

"Hey, baby," came Blaine's voice over the speaker. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, B. The apartment's so empty all the time now and I can't help but think it's wasted when I'm here all alone," Kurt pouted down the line. "Well, I suppose I'm not totally alone. I've got Bruce," he said after a slight pause.

"Is it weird that I'm jealous of a stuffed torso?" Blaine asked, laughing under his breath. "I'm so tired of studying for these finals but I can't make myself stop."

"Just think, two more exams and you're officially a high school graduate. Then, you can move in here and I can make you cuddle me whenever I want," Kurt laughed back. "The whole 'lack of a heartbeat' thing makes Bruce a little unsettling."

"Wouldn't it be weirder if he _did _have a heartbeat, though? A sentient human-shaped pillow sounds like fodder for a horror movie," responded Blaine.

If glares could travel through phone lines, Kurt's would have burned Blaine's eyebrows off. "Blaine Anderson, don't you even go there. I'm probably going to have to sleep alone in a dark, drafty apartment for most of the night and you're not going to appreciate me calling you hysterically at two-thirty am when your first final's at eight."

"I'm sorry, baby. You know I'd comfort you at any hour of the day, though," Blaine apologized before saying, "God, I'd better go. I still have five more chapters of physics to study. I love you, fiance." The kiss noise Blaine made into the phone made Kurt smile.

"I love you, too, fiance. Happy studying!" Kurt chirped before hanging up. He snuggled down into Bruce and was just about to start a nice nap when his phone vibrated with a text message from Blaine.

**I know it's not quite the same, but play this message while your phone's under Bruce, okay? Love you.**

Kurt opened the sound file Blaine had attached and shoved his phone under Bruce dutifully, curling back up on top of its chest. For a minute, he couldn't hear anything, but then the steady _thu-thump, thu-thump _of Blaine's heartbeat came loud and clear over Kurt's phone speaker.

_Not good at romance, my ass, _was Kurt's last coherent thought before drifting off into the best sleep he'd had all week.


End file.
